


Old Sins Cast Long Shadows

by Alchemyra



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Coffee Shops, Hand Jobs, Kidnapping, M/M, Mafia AU, Porn With Plot, Russian Mafia, bodyguards, street gangs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemyra/pseuds/Alchemyra





	1. Chapter 1

He knew this was a bad idea. Like, really bad. 

How had he been talked into this again?

Something about getting out more, and learning to get his own coffee - like an adult. 

As if walking around with bodyguards wasn't conspicuous enough, there he was Victor Nikiforov, dolled up to the nines in a black on black three piece suit, rolex on his wrist like it wasn't Wednesday morning in the middle of New York. 

Sure, it wasn't abnormal to see someone in a suit,going about their day. What wasn't normal was seeing the biggest crime boss the city had ever seen stroll around getting his own coffee. 

The Russian Mafia had existed for years within the city, and now it belonged to Victor. He had fought, blood, sweat, tears and bullets for his succession, and for the last few years he had run it with an iron grip. 

It wasn't like he was getting restless stuck in his office.  
Or driving people mad with his incessant pacing.  
Yakov had told him he needed some air. The office was to stuffy, Yakov had grumbled. 

Maybe he did need to go out for a little bit, before he drove Yakov mad enough to draw a gun on him.  
Then he might have to shoot him first, a terrible inconvenience in his book. Yakov had been with him since he first became The Boss, and even served his father as the right hand man. 

The little bell chimed as he entered the warm building, even though the air outside was cold enough to make his breath fog in front of his face and draw goosebumps under his shirt.  
The sweet smell of almond, the aroma of coffee, strong and bitter, mixed with the slurping gurgle of heating milk, drew a warm smile to his face. 

It was a tiny shop, in the middle of nowhere outside of everyday people’s way.  
But that made it perfect. A hidden gem for those that bothered to find the quaint shot, all warm wood and that stretched all the way to the ceiling. A counter to the left at the back stretching till the centre of the room, made space for small tables and more wooden chairs. Benches lined the right side of the shop, pictures commemorating the cafe’s long life behind it.  
Ranging all the way back to black and white pictures, grainy and faded in places. Victor had once spent a lot of time, staring at the pictures. 

“Good morning,” A cheery voice called as Victor got reaquainted with the small space. 

An acknowledging smile on his face as he moved swiftly towards the counter, dodging tables and chairs with practiced ease. 

“Hello,” He greeted, but the words got stuck in his throat. Brain fluttering between, ‘threat’ ‘danger’ and ‘DAMN’ all at the same time. 

The man that spoke was alone as he worked, fingers nimble across the massive, stainless steel coffee maker. Black hair, messy but in the cutest way hung over his face. Just short enough that he didn't have to deal with it obstructing his vision. Black eyes, on second thought brown, but rivalling the darkest chocolate, set in alabaster skin.  
Japanese; Victor guessed. 

Realizing he hadn't said anything to the young man, who was now smiling at him politely, not even a little fazed. 

“Hi,” Victor finally said, clearing his throat a little.  
“What can I get you today” The young man asked, done with the milk and moving on to mixing it in with the coffee with professional accuracy, making small swirls in the brown foam.  
Worried his tongue was going to shrivel up and die if he didn't talk soon, he gasped out:

“I’ll take a latte with an extra shot of coffee,”

After getting his latte, and spending an absurd amount of time blatantly staring at the young man making his drink, he basically ran out of there, almost running into his bodyguards in his haste and was more than grateful for the cold air cooling his heated skin. 

Ignoring the weird looks he got from the two men behind him, also in full suits, hired to protect his life and well being. Otabek had been with him for a few years, but the other man was new. An unnamed wall of muscle that might last a little bit longer than his predecessor if the betting pool was anything to go by. 

“You ok, Boss?” Otabeks’ deep voice cut through his mental dilemma. Swallowing thickly, Victor nodded, and headed off back towards the office, coffee cooling in his hand. Completely forgotten, when the only thing he saw was the dark eyes of the young man behind the counter. 

This was going to be a really bad idea, he remembered thinking, and disregarding it just as quickly. 

 

It was a quick was back, a few back alleys dogging bags of rubbish and trash cans too large to really be functional in such a small space. But it really was just to amuse himself with watching his massive guards squeeze through as well.  
Otabek was a lot slimmer than his co-worker, a little taller than Victor himself. A wiry build of muscle, less for intimidation purposes, and more because Victor knew he could trust him with his life. The yet to be named man on the other hand, had the build of a wrestler, all muscle and over six feet, at least. 

When they finally reached the building, Victor once again admired the vast structure. It wasn't much to look at, in fact it could have been a lot grander in his opinion. Towering out of the concrete, a massive building designed to house everything the current Boss could possibly think of and more.  
Apartments for varous staff and live in members, as well as the normal Kitchens, pools, saunas, indoor gardens, and all the luxurious of high society. Victor had claimed the penthouse for himself after his predecessor's death. 

Untimely death that he had nothing to do with, of course. 

Revolving door at the centre, etched in gold to match the off-white building, all the windows surrounded in black pannes. 

The receptionist greeted him cheerfully as he entered, he gave her a small smile in return, mind already running at a million miles an hour now that the oppressing pressure of the Mafia sat heavy on his shoulders again. It seemed to climb on his back whenever he entered through those doors, like a weight that he couldn't quite shake no matter how far he brought their organisation. 

Being of smaller size than some of the less organized crime syndicates in the city had it's downside of course, but more order and discipline just meant that they were the ones really cashing in at the end of the day. 

The structure of the building was designed for efficiency, so Victor’s office was almost directly underneath his apartment, and from there down, it progressed through the Mafia’s structure, office and storage, meeting rooms, and apartments, before the more inconspicuous parts were closer to the door. Most of the building was even just a standard hotel, Victor had his own secretary, adding to the less suspicious side of the business.  
The more they could cover their own ass the better.

He had just been lucky that he took over the business, instead of starting it from scratch, although it did feel that way sometimes. 

Mind racing over the day’s tasks ahead of him, now that he couldn't afford to slack off. Yet his mind was constantly drawn back to dark eyes, and the feeling of soft hair between his fingers. How a light blush would cover pale skin. How his lips would feel under Victor’s.

“Sir, you have a meeting to go to,” Otabek muttered politely, when Victor had been left staring at the open elevator doors for far too long to be normal. “Are you sure you’re okay, Boss?”  
“Of course,” He grinned, folding himself into the Boss persona, a man who hold himself high and looks down on those around him.  
Someone who Victor could only distantly relate to. 

He walked into the glass meeting room with a furious, as if he had a cape billowing behind him. The theatre of it all was something he could definitely relate to. 

A chorus of greeting met him, that he didn't respond to; sitting at the head of the table in silence, crossing his legs at the knee, hands cradled by the arm rest. Cold coffee placed directly in front of him.

Men and women, far older than him sat across from each their along the stretched hard wood table.  
Various piles of paper within their reach.  
“Let us begin,”

Victor zoned out almost as soon as they began. Reciting events of the week, developments within the organisation and around it. 

“So none of you have found the hitman?” Victor said in a voice so low it was barely audible, yet he knew every single person in the room was hanging onto his every word.  
“We do know who sent them, sir,” A man at the back said cautiously.  
“Even I could tell you who sent them,” Victor snarled in return, then leaned back in his chair, already over these tedious meetings. He sighed and stood, “Let me know when you find something.”  
Before someone could intervene, a clear cut “Dismissed,” pierced across the room. 

“Sir, there is still an issue that needs attending,” The man next to him muttered, black hair swept back to reveal large, black framed eyes.  
Victor raised an immaculate eyebrow?  
“The mole.”

They found themselves in the large kitchen located someone under the building a few minutes later. 

A man sat, bound against a chair. Victor recognized him of course, even through the towel that had been used as a makeshift gag,covered up with grey duct tape to keep it in place. He knew without looking that the man’s hands were bound behind his back to the chair with cable ties, cutting into his skin.  
Fear clear cut in the man’s eyes. Shinning with it. 

Business as usual.

Funny, how fear always seemed to make people’s eyes sparkle, Victor thought darkly.

He started to struggle, as Victor approached.  
Men in expensive suits surrounded them on all sides.  
Out of the splatter zone.

“Leo De La Iglesia,” VIctor prompted, and Leo stopped moving. “I wish I could say I was surprised to see you here. That might make this harder.” 

Not dropping his gaze, Leo starred Victor down. Victor smirked, a savage expression taking over the usual sweet natured smile. An expression he reserved exactly for these moments. 

Brown hair fell into Leo’s eyes, but he didn't seem to notice, transfixed by the small knife that appeared in Victor’s hand.  
“Pick your poison, Leo.”

Leo shook his head, violently thrashing in his bounds. The chair toppled, he landed on his shoulder with a muffled grunt, and tear sprung into his eyes.  
With a flick of one pale wrist, a guard moved forward and righted the chair with practiced ease, as if it wasn't occupied. 

“We’ll start of easy,” Victor reasoned, “Who do you work for?” Nimble fingers lifted the tape delicately off Leo’s face, and pulled the spit soaked towel from between his teeth. 

Heavy gasps left Leo’s lips, swollen where the tape and fabric had been.

“I’m not saying shit,” He gasped finally, eyes clearly avoiding everything but Victor's face.  
A slap resonated in the tiled space before Leo had even finished speaking. Victor's hand still poised, he glared down at the man. 

“You know what I want to hear, don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.” 

Dazed, all Leo could do was blink slowly, as he turned back to face his Boss. 

“Who do you work for? Is it the people who have a hit out on me?”

Leo nodded slowly, licked his chapped lips.  
“I’m not saying anything else,” Leo muttered, eyes dropping to the floor. 

Victor sighed and stepped back, knife idle between his fingertips. 

“I asked you before, I’ll ask you again; pick your poison.”  
Confusion settled between Leo’s eyebrows, little creases that pulled his face up and dipped dimples in his cheeks.  
“Knife, or gun?”  


***

“So how’s life been in the slow lane?” Mari Katsuki asked, cigarette limp and lit against her lip. Smoke swirling up across her face.  
“I wish you wouldn't call it that, It’s just a coffee shop.” Yuuri said, sitting back in the wooden chair at their family home, which doubled as a spa and Inn.  
Mari stood across from him, standing against the doorway, no regard for the smell of smoke wafting throughout the whole room.  
“When are you going to go back to your real passion?”  
“I like this as well, Mari. Making coffee isn't a bad gig, and there’s money left over for the inn” 

She didn't answer, simple gave him a long hard look, before sauntering out the room. 

His ‘Passion,’ Yuuri thought distantly, chin braced on his palm.  
It had started out with dance, ballet in fact. And one day he stood centre stage in an empty ice rink and knew that this is what he was made for.  
Skating.  
And then he lost, and kept losing, and it became too much to upkeep.  
Now there were other things that were more important.  
But his family was right, working in a coffee shop was not covering his expenses when he was giving most of his income to his struggling parents.  
So when his best friend and roommate had mentioned his work, Yuuri jumped at the chance. 

***

Victor walked along the street. Ahead of his guards, the sun barely up. A lot earlier than he would normally be called awake and even earlier than he should be outside. 

What he wouldn't do for coffee, he thought distantly, almost running into the door of the coffee shop in his haste. 

A few days had passed. Starting every day with a very non-stalker-ish visit to his new favorite cafe, and a look at the beautiful dark eyed boy behind the counter.  
Yuuri, he had said his name was. 

Today was the day, he told himself again. Not like the previous days where he’s chickened out. Not that he was nervous. Victor Nikiforov didn't get nervous. And he sure as hell hadn't been standing there like an idiot for far too long.  
“Latte?” Yuuri asked with a small smile.  
Victor nodded.  
Swallowed.  
Cleared his throat.  
“Are you busy after this?”  
Dark eyes met his own clear blue. Something unreadable reflecting in them.  
One slow blink later. “Are you asking me out?”  
A heavy lump sat in Victor’s throat where his vocal cords should have been.  
“Yes.”  
A small smile. Creases at his eyes and Victor almost melted into the floor when he saw Yuuri nod.  
“I’d like that,”


	2. Chapter 2

“Sir, this is going too far,” A voice called from the back.   
A redesigned warehouse, broken into and claimed with bonfires that brightened the dark and littered with guns and bottles.   
Untouched by the police, as of yet. 

The leader sat on a makeshift stage at one end of the elongated storage facility, an armchair like a throne beneath him. 

A King among Kings, he’d said when they first got it. It hadn't moved since and no one questioned him on it. 

“So you don't think taking out the competition is a good idea then?” He asked, head tilted, face shrouded in the shadows. Only his hands were visible on the faded red armrests. Dress pants cut down his slim legs, crossed at the knees.   
You could hear the nervousness in the tremble of his subordinates voice, the fidget in his fingertips. The light shuffle that he had tried desperately to hide. 

A dark satisfaction went through the man at the realization that he had put that fear there, simply by being.

“No, of course not.” He paused. “But killing the Mafia’s head honcho, doesn't that seem a bit extreme?”

The Boss turned his head, not that the man before him could see, and considered this.

“We never signed up for murder,’ He pleaded.

***

As first dates went, it wasn't as mortifying as Victor had anticipated. 

A small lunch, a day after Victor had asked him out, talking over sandwiches and coffee. 

Victor learned that he used to be an ice skater, and that he lived away from home with a young man called Pitchit.   
And yes - they were just friends. Best Friends, he had insisted. 

A small kiss on the cheek as they parted, and a few days later, Yuuri asked Victor to dinner. Jumping at the chance, and picked him up in a lamborghini that has Yuuri’s jaw hitting the pavement. 

Progress, Victor thought as Yuuri allowed a small peck.   
Tease, he continued to think as he dropped Yuuri off in front of his apartment, his roommate welcoming him with a smile and a look that said Yuuri was not going to get away with leaving out a single detail. 

A week passed, when Victor dragged a very reluctant Yuuri with him to shop.

 

The double doors opened, black and gilded in gold. The glass on either side displayed cloth cut to suit the slim build of each mannequin, even pastier against the midnight blue's and obsidian black suits against them, 

"Victor, I don't think this is a good idea. What are we doing here? I can’t afford any of this. I mean it’s too-"  
"Darling, its okay. If we do find something that you like, it's my treat. Think of it as an apology for taking so long to ask you out." Victor grinned, warm and welcoming as he pulled the door open, and beckoned the young man inside. 

A thin tall man, red hair in waves hung across his forehead which he had tried in vain to tame. With no apparent success. But that just made him look younger, and even more approachable than the 500 watt smile stretched over porcelain white teeth. 

"Good Afternoon, Gentlemen, how may I be of service?"  
Yuuri shrunk behind him slightly. 

"A new suit, I think. Ties, sock, blazer, the works if you please."

The man almost preened, and ushered them deeper into the store. Racks of premade jackets, blazers and shirts in every color imaginable, as well as shirts, a wall filled with folded ties and neatly racket shoes. 

Victor blended right in, but he could feel how out of place Yuuri felt already. He took his hand, cool in his own and shaking slightly, and brought it to his lips. A small gasp left Yuuri's lips at the gesture and he gently pressed Victor's hand in his own.   
"Thanks," He muttered, almost too quietly to hear. 

Victor was given a seat, a few feet from the changing rooms as Yuuri was dragged inside, options handed to him by the dozens with Victor's input. 

"Yes, black would be perfect."  
"What about blue?"  
"Green, a lighter shade, perhaps."

"Victor, are you ready?" He asked, the first number ready, black and white traditional.   
"Yes, come out whenever you're ready, my darling."

The curtain ruffled, as if he had taken a handful of the heavy wine fabric, but hadn't moved to fling it aside yet. Anticipation was killing him, slowly, from the inside out. 

It still surprised him how shy Yuuri was sometimes, until that fateful moments when he decided on something, then there was no going back and god help you if you tried to change his mind on something.

The curtain slowly parted, gaping into the space within.

"Let me know if its looks stupid or-"

"Stunning," the word left his mouth before he could close it, but the light blush that creeped over Yuuri’s cheeks made it well worth it. It had been a stroke of fate that the store had one in almost a perfect fit for him.   
From where Victor sat, there was no fault in it. 

The black fabric cut close to his torso, made the curve to his lean hips smaller, gave depth to his shoulders and extenuated his surprisingly muscled thighs perfects. 

"Turn for me, Beautiful?"  
He really shouldn't have asked for it if he couldn't take it. Snug across his backside, creating curves in the dark fabric. Round hips and an ass that shouldn't be let out in public, let alone in pants that left nothing to the imagination - or maybe too much. 

Victor stood, glad to find the salesman had made himself scarce as another customer entered. Hand’s soon took Yuuri's hips turned him back around to face him, eyes wide, hopeful and scared.

"Do you like it?" Yuuri asked, in a small voice? "Is it too much?"  
"It's perfect," He promised, then quieter. "Can I kiss you?"  
Not wanting to rush him into anything; best to ask permission, he thought to himself. 

Lips connected, first small and soft then harder and more demanding. Hands dragged up the inside of Victors jacket, across his back to dig nails into the muscle he found there.   
Victor's own fingers skimmed the lines the suit made, across his ribs and down to his waist. Racket through soft hair and smooth skin, still heated with a fading blush. 

He knew he should have back away when two surprisingly strong arms dragged him into the dressing room, first fulls of curtain back across and pushing him into the hanging room wall. 

 

 

“Yuuri,” Victor moaned between kisses. Hot lips wondered to Yuuri’s neck, feeling the pulse jump under the skin. “Are you sure?” He felt him nod above him and went to work. 

Nimble hands pulled his white shirt out of the pants and up, bunching it as far as it would go until it was clenched under Yuuri’s arms. Lips, teeth, tongue and hands attacked the skin revealed. Leaving fading red marks and saliva trails down his torso. 

Victor skimmed down further, until he could mouth over the hot bulge he found in the expensive pants. Yuuri whimpered and whined above him, frustratingly thrusting his hips forward. 

Fly down and pants followed to pool at his feet, blue underwear delicately pulled down. Eyes transfixed on Yuuri’s own, they widened slightly, and his breathing became erratic when the cool air hit the sensitive skin. 

He paled what he found there, the soft skin catching on his palm as he moved it, creating delicious friction that did nothing but tease. Hinting at the pleasure to come. 

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, voice heavy and rough. “We can stop anytime.”  
“Please, I want you,”

He smiled. “Then you can have me,”

Lips pulled back the silky foreskin, tongue dragged over the head and dug into the slit he found there. Searching for the bitter taste he knew clung just underneath. He was rewarded for his efforts with a tug on his hair, that pushed him further towards Yuuri’s hips and a barely suppressed moan he would take to the grave. 

“Ahh-hh,” Wasting no time he swallowed down, tasting and teasing the skin as he went, pressing into the vein and tracing it down until his nose was pressed into the coarse hair at the base of Yuuri’s cock. He pushed down further, pressed himself deeper, swallowed around him and heard him moan, so broken and destroyed he almost came in his pants. 

Pulling back up, he traced the ridge of Yuuri’s cock with his lips, then his tongue before licking at the head, broads strokes that almost brought Yuuri to his knees if the shaking was any indication. 

Yuuri tugged harder, more insistent, pulling him closer then not,   
“I'm gon-” He whispered, “Vic- ahh,”

Hot cum flooded down his throat, bitter and viscous.   
Victor sucked him through it, hand pulling at the base, lips locked around the head of his cock until he twitched with over stimulation. 

He released him with a decisive smack of his lips, and a job well done when he saw how disheveled his partner look.   
Sex mused hair, glasses slightly askew, lips bitten a dark red where they still clung between his teeth. 

Victor got to his feet, almost stumbling but he was nothing if not graceful after an impromptu blow job. 

“Are you okay?” Victor whispered, smoothing Yuuri’s silky strands back into place. A small kiss on the nose as he tightened his glasses. A peck on the lips to make him release them from the death grip his teeth still had on them.

“Definitely,” He smiled, before his hands were on Victor's fly and a fist closed hot and hard around his own erection, left neglected and throbbing. 

“You don't have to- ahhhh,”  
He really wasn't going to deny him, when he felt such a perfect rhythm on his cock, teasing the slit with each stroked up and twisting at the base.   
“You’d better be quiet, if you don't want to attend to come in here.” Yuuri whispered, getting as close as he could with his hand still working between them and breathing on the sensitive shell of Victors ear. 

His hand sped up, getting him closer and closer with each tug. He felt heat pooling in his gut, nerves twitching at the base of his spine, and suddenly exploding. Vision going white for a split second before it bled back to color. 

Or it would have, if Yuuri’s mouth hadn't covered his cock and collecting everything he had to give.   
As he stood, Victor watched him swallow, and almost came again at the sight.   
They helped each other redress, smoothing hair back into place, and buttoning pants between kisses, before they could be deemed presentable and reemerged from the confined space.

One stupidly expensive suit later, a watch, shoes to match and a kiss that seemed to split the heavens in two, Victor knew there was no going back now. 

***  
Victor Nikiforov was a man of luxuries.   
Anyone who knew him, was privy to that.   
And even people that didn't know him, could see it in the cut of his suit, in the gold of his watch.  
So he wasted no expense in treating his knewest favorite dinner guest. 

He hadn't wanted to rush anything. Taking his time to woo the young man, who seemed so skittish in his presence. 

Face flushed at every dinner date, every hand holding opportunity. Even the slightest kiss on the cheek as they parted for the night, was met with the faintest pink adorning his smooth skin.

And Victor reveled in it. Lived for it.   
So for their next date, he brought Yuuri to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city.   
Dolled up to the nines, with Yuuri in a suit Victor had bought for him.   
Tonight was the night.

“You look stunning,” Victor greeted him.   
“So do you,” Yuuri answer automatically, awestruck at the black and white blazer, white shirt and tie. Yuuri, in all black, from shiny leather at his feet to his slicked back black locks that Victor was trying his hardest not to touch. 

Almost overcome with the urge to run his hands along Yuuri’s waist, feel the way the fabric hugged his sides, and long legs. 

Yuuri took his hand, and followed him to the car. A short drive later, filled with small talk that flew by naturally and automatically, brought them to the restaurant. 

Greeted by a beautiful young woman in bright red lipstick and brown hair in a tight bun, they were led to their table.

Victor barely remembered ordering. 

Transfixed by the way the overhead lights seemed to make Yuuri’s skin glow, his lips shine as if he had just been kissed, the faintest trace of a pout visible. 

It was almost too startling to realize, when something brushed his legs under the table. His eyes shot up, into Yuuri’s who gave him a small smile, watching his reaction. 

Yuuri’s foot, he realized with a start. Slowly dragged up along the inside of his calf, brushed his knees and pushed them outwards, making space for himself. 

“Yuuri?”

“I really like you Victor,” He muttered, a little self conscious. His ministrations stopping shortly. 

“I really like you too, Yuuri,” He reassured the young man. A bright blush smashed into Yuuri’s face, as if he hadn't been expecting that answer. 

“Follow me to the bathroom?” He asked cautiously, foot lightly running up the crease of Victor's thigh before he was gone. On his feet and heading steadily towards the bathroom. 

Victor took a deep breath, a heavy drink of his wine and followed. 

The door swung shut, and locked with a click. Yuuri absentmindedly staring at himself in the mirror. Brushing a few stray hairs back into the mouse.   
Victor brushed up behind him, hands finding purchase on Yuuri’s waist, dragging him closer and nibbling at his neck and ears. Anything he could reach. Hands running up and down his sides. Yuuri groaned, deep in his throat, head falling back onto Victor’s shoulder, ass grinding against his crotch in small circles. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, eyes closed as he breathed in the sweet smell of the raven head. 

“I was hoping you would take the hint after the first date.” Yuuri admitted, breathlessly, “Or the second. I want you Vitya,” 

“I didn't want to rush you,” Victor almost growled, voice low and full of meaning. It had been an accident that Yuuri found out about the Russian’s ‘cute’ nickname, and it had stuck ever since; but only in private. 

“No rush,” he promised, an explicit grind of hips back into Victors. A quick breath across the saliva slick skin of Yuuri’s neck, watching him shiver deliciously, and goosebump ghost across his creamy skin.   
Yuuri spun in his grasp. Arms tangling around Victor’s neck, chest to chest, hips joined, legs entangled. It was a true accomplishment and testament to both their balances that they didn't topple where they stood. 

Pale pink lips pressed against Victor’s own, soft and sweet before they weren’t. An urgency that hadn't been there before, harder faster.   
Saliva slick moans echoed around the room. 

Victor’s hands snaked around slim hips, felt muscle under the fabric that he couldn't wait to unwrap.   
The raven head moaned lowly, fingers gripping silver strands. 

Yuuri moved Victor through a push of his hips, almost making them stumble in the process but never disconnecting.

A quick glance over Victor's shoulder directed them into the first stall available. Surprisingly, all empty.   
He really should have checked that earlier, Victor thought to himself, before the slam of the wooden door cut off anything and everything else but Yuuri.  
Always Yuuri. 

Nimble fingers on his belt, under his shirt and pushing up the fabric.   
A gasp when Victor attacked Yuuri’s neck with kisses, licks and nicks of his teeth leaving little marks to blossom and fade just as fast. 

“Wait, wait, кисло-сердце, [sweet-heart]” The silver haired man panted. 

Yuuri whined, beautifully, all high pitched and desperate. Hands still clutching at the fabric of his short. 

“I don't want our first time together to be in some bathroom,” Victor thumb stroked down Yuuri’s cheeks, gliding along the light blush across the creamy skin. 

Yuuri swallowed thickly, looking up at Victor and nodded. 

And dropped to his knees. 

Whatever air might have been in Victor’s lungs got knocked out at the sight. His belt was open, pants around his knees. A single finger traced at the tip of Victor's cock, with just enough pressure to tease and not nearly enough to do anything else.   
Wet spot bleeding across the navy fabric. 

“Yuuri,” Victor groaned, head dropping back and hitting the stall with a dull tud.   
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He stroked along the length, still hidden under the fabric, before he peeled it back, stretched it over Victor's dick, and palmed it down his thighs to join the rest of his clothes. 

A few hard tugs, and Victor's dick disappear down Yuuri’s throat, swallowing around his whole length, nose pressing into the black curls at the base. 

Fingers locked in the soft strands of black silk of Yuuri’s head, pulled him closer to his hips before he flt him choke deliciously, and yanked him back. Tongue on his slit, lips tight around the head of dick. 

“So good, Yuuri,” Victor groaned, as his dick was sucked back down Yuuri’s throat. It hit the back of his throat and pushed further, tightened around Victor cock and fucking moaned. 

He went back to the tip, pulling out all the stops. Tongue and lips working in perfect tandem.   
It was almost embarrassing how fast Victor came. The sight of bright black, teary eyes staring up at him with his cock between pretty pink lips all it really took. Shooting down the younger man’s throat, and watching him swallow like a fucking pro. 

Ragged breaths tore from his lungs, and when his sight returned to normal he was meat with the most beautiful view of yuuri’s hard dick in his own hands, quick jerky movements trying to get himself off as well.   
He got hard from blowing me, Victor's mind supplied helpfully.

“Stand up for me, beautiful,” Yuuri staggered to his feet, before Victor returned the favour. 

He was thicker than anticipated, one long vein running down the underside which he wasted no time in tracing. Sucking at the head and stroking what he couldn't fit in his mouth with his hand. 

A true testament to how aroused Yuuri was, he came within minutes of Victor swallowing around his cock. 

Tongue tracing his lips when he stood again, hands pulling Victor closer to Yuuri’s lips, and tasting each other in their mouthes.   
“I really like you, Vitya” Yuuri muttered almost deliriously.

“I do too,” Victor reiterated again, “But we do have to go back out there,” 

The table had been set when they returned to it, Steak and salmon on display against the wine colored table cloth and ink black napkins. 

“I don't think you’ve told me what you do for a living?” Yuuri prompted, fork poised over his fish.   
“I work in the Import/Export business,” Victor replied casually, lie ready on his tongue. 

“Does it get boring?”

“Not enough for me to stop. It's a family business.” Victor explained calmly. “It was handed down to me, and I’ve been educated my whole life to run it. I couldn't give it up. And even if I did, I would have nowhere else to go.” 

A small frown marred Yuuri’s face. “It sounds very depressing.” 

“It's not really.” Victor smiled, trying to sooth the younger man. “It's just the way it is. And I don't hate it. It pays enough for me to spoil you to my heart's content.” 

 

Dinner went along without a hitch. For the first time there was no awkward silence, each pause met with a secret smile. 

Victor dropped Yuuri off at his apartment, a lingering kiss that long far longer than socially   
acceptable. 

 

***

“Pitchit, you don't understand!” Yuuri moaned, face buried in pillows where he had fallen onto his best friend and room mates bed. Sheets rumpled and digging into his stomach. “He’s gorgeous and SO far out of my league.”

“He’s not out of your league!” Pichit complained. “You’re beautiful and talented and smart and if this guy doesn't see it then him and me are going to have words. And not the sweet, adoring type.” Yuuri lifted his head out of the fabric to lay on his arm and stare at his best friend. Casually sitting across from him in sweats and a t shirt so faded the only thing you could tell was that is used to be red. 

“Not just that, but he is LOADED. Like oh my god, kinda money.” 

“So? You need someone who’s gonna spoil you a little.” Pichit grinned mischievously. 

Yuuri hummed. “He said the same thing,” 

“Maybe this will be good for you?” Pichit prompted slowly. Almost uncertain. 

“I’m hoping so,” Face reburied in the pillow, it took all of Pichit’s best-friend-telepathy to understand the Japanese man. “Just promise me that this won’t get out. Just between us, okay?”

Pichit nodded firmly. “On another note, I don't think this is the best time to mention it,” 

“What is it?”

“There’s a meeting coming up. Apparently something happened, they’re calling everything in. I got the message today, and I know you don't check them so I just wanted to let you know.” 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, “I think I’m just gonna sleep. When’s the meeting, before I forget?’

“It's not gonna clash with work or anything you know that,” Pichit replied, knowing Yuuri’s fears before he voiced them.   
“It's in a few days.”  
He nodded, and let himself be dragged to his own room, before collapsing again. 

It was going to take a little bit before he got used to dating - anybody.   
Especially the Victor Nikiforov. 

***

“I want whatever guard you have available on stand by.” Victor barked, voice echoing around the meeting room, eyes lit up like blue flames. 

“Sir, we don't know what’s happening yet.” Someone tried to reason with him. “This might be a little too presumptuous.”

“If Yuuri gets hurt because of this, I will never forgive myself, or anyone who tried to stop me from protecting him.” The underlying threat clear in his voice as he addressed the men before him. “We just need them on alert, in case something does happen.” He reasoned, head tilted forwards, eyes not seeing the report of Street Gang thugs so close to the man he loved.  
Loved?

 

Love.

It was as if the answer had been in front of his face the entire time. SPelt out in the curve of Yuuri’s lips and the sparkle in his eyes. 

He was in love with Yuuri Katsuki, and he would burn anyone alive that stood in his way. 

Yuuri didn't seem to know they were there in the black and white surveillance pictures scattered in front of him. Time stamps in the corners. After they had started dating.   
Sickening realization settled into Victors gut.

He was going to be the reason Yuuri got hurt. 

“Set up a safe house, and have him followed at all times. Make sure he doesn't know. And don't disrupt the street gang either, they were following him first. Let them think that they are the only ones still.” 

Grim faces followed him out. Otabek on his left, Celestino taking up the right. Still all broad shoulders and imposing muscle. 

“It's great you finally found someone, Boss.” Otabek said, happy smile curving his lips.

“Thank you,” Victor replied automatically, before asking: “And how are things with your hell-fire boyfriend?”

“You mean Yura? Don't let him hear you call him that.” He chuckled good naturedly. “He’s good too. Wants to come back from that assignment you sent him on though.”

“I haven't heard from him in awhile,” He said calmly, “Is everything still going as planned?”

“There’s a shipment of counterfeits headed our way in the next few weeks, and he’s managed to set up a new drug run through the city. We’ll be set up for life even if everything crumbled around our ears.”

“Let's not tempt fate,”

“He will be coming back, right Boss?”

“Yes, once this is all settled, he’ll be welcomed back with open arms.”


	3. Chapter 3

_I’m never going to get used to this,_ Yuuri though walking through the double doors, Pichit an ever present presence at his side.  
Nerves fluttered in his stomach, something like dread but subtler. Like that feeling of knowing you did something wrong, but not knowing what. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Pichit reassured him gently, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Stop fidgeting you're making me nervous.”  
Yuuri glanced down to see the thread wedged between his fingers, unraveling his t shirt bit by bit. 

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said automatically. He released the cloth from his grip and smoothed it down with the same motion. Focusing on keeping his head level, his walking even, and letting his mind wander anywhere but here. 

Vitya. The little sparkle in his eyes when he smiled, or the way his skin crinkled around the edges when he laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.  
The way his fingers seemed to glide along Yuuri’s skin as if they were made for it. 

He had been so worried about messing up at the dinner date.  
The first truly formal date they had been on.  
_Was I too forward?_  
He shook his head in frustration, realizing the small crowd traveling in the same direction had to come to stop in front of a small stage. 

In a meeting hall usually reserved for recitals and school functions, all dust and old faded carpet like felt-cloth. 

There were a few people, dressed in all black already on the stage, waiting for the room to fill. The leader had their back turned, but he recognized Milia immediately. 

Brown hair in a wavy bob around her face, the lean grace of a dancer in her every movement. 

It never did. Maybe a hundred milled around the large space, shooting fugitive glances over their shoulders. 

“What do you think this is about?” Yuuri asked, eyes trained on the men ahead. 

There were men and women of all ages, mingling in the air of tension.  
It didn't matter who or what you were, if you wanted to work, get paid and could be useful, then you had a spot here.

It had saved both Yuuri and Pichit multiple times, but as with everything, there came a price for their security. 

“Okay, so I know we don't usually do this sort of thing but I felt that all of you should be included.” The man at the centre spoke. Arms crossed tightly across his middle. He stalked forward until his toes were off the edge of the stage, as in their face as he could get without leaping from his podium. 

He had been the only that Pichit introduced him to, when he was first introduced to this line of work. 

One might call him their employer. 

“For the last few week we’ve been orchestrating a hit on one of this city's most influential mobsters.” He explained, “Victor Nikiforov.”

 

***

 

Lilia sat, back straight, face pinched. “When is he returning?” She demanded, her Russian upbringing thick on every syllable. 

“Yura?” Victor asked, “Soon.” Her face seem to contort tighter, a sternness in her forehead gave way to an unyielding look in her eyes. They had been talking for over an hour. 

“Victor, you’ve said this for weeks. My protegee must return or all of my hard work will be wasted.” Hands folded neatly in her lap. 

“I never said he wasn't coming back.” Victor said, “You should be proud of him, he has flourished under your guidance.”

“What could be so important that he is away from home?” Lilia demanded. 

A small, condescending smile graced Victors lips. He took a sip of the wine presented to him and stood, button the blazer in slow, measured movements. “Don't worry about the finer details, Lilia. Just trust that he’s exactly where I want him to be right now.”

He almost expected the glass to hit him on the way out, but he knew that Lilia knew the consequences for such an action.

Not even her teaching skills would save her then.

“Boss,” Otabek said, falling into stride beside him. “The safe house has been prepared, as per your instructions.” 

“Thank you, Otabek.” Victor muttered on reflex. “I’ve got another date tonight. Just make sure everything is in order while I’m gone.”

Victor didn't see the curt nod that followed his request, or the pained look in Otabek’s eyes as he fell back with Celestino, still silent as his side. 

 

A few hours later, Victor found himself opposite the cause of his infatuation. 

Bright eyes at the chandeliers that adorned the ceilings, the vast rooms and luxurious interior.

“This is your apartment?!”  
A small, pride-filled nod. 

“But why here?” Yuuri wondered and immediately regretted it. “It’s not that I- I mean-this is-”

“Yuuri, it's okay,” Victor said quickly to the flailing man, eyes wide with worry fringed in black hair. A small kiss pressed to the top of his head, before he stroked the soft, pudgy skin of Yuuri’s cheeks, feeling the skin’s texture change as he reached his neck. Tracing down his sides to wrap him in a loose hug that Yuuri didn't hesitate to reciprocate. 

“I wanted to do something special for you,” Victor confessed quietly, into the mess of Yuuri’s charcoal hair. 

Yuuri hesitated, unsure how to respond, “T-Thank you,”

“Do you remember what I said the last time, at dinner?”  
Yuuri brain stopped for a second, then backtracked.  
Coming back to himself, mouth dry and eyes wide.

He swallowed. “Yeah,” 

Taking this as invitation, Victor settled on feeling the hard edge of Yuuri’s hip bones, concealed by a navy sweater that made his skin lighter, and hair darker all at once for a mesmerizing combination he had trouble tearing his eyes off. 

Spit slick lips met Yuuri’s in a touch almost as soft as the fingers lightly trailing up Victor back. Pulling him closer. Deeper, tighter against his chest.  
As if he couldn't get close enough. 

Hands trailed down, further, brushed the hardness in Yuuri's pants and elicited an almost pornographic moan from him. High cheek bones dusted with the softest pink, head tilted back slightly, before he returned to himself and gazed at Victure. Lust burned in his eyes. Bright and like liquid night. 

"Is this okay?" he asked quickly. A curt nod, before Yuuri's on hands seized upon their own adventuring. Tracing the curve of Victors waist, fining the valleys of his abs the the defined hill of sharp hipbones, still hidden under expensive fabric.

"I had thought we were going to go to Dinner,"

"Sorry to disappoint," He muttered in return. Yuuri shook his head. 

"No, this is better."

Lips found his own, crushing and dominant, making his knees weak where he stood. Victor dragged him backwards, guiding him to the first flat - no, comfortable, surface he could find. In this case, a couch far too large for its own good.  
They fell back with a thud, the raven head landing on his silver partner, lips disconnecting for the split second it took to land before rejoining with newly found vigor. 

"Lube?"

It was Victor's turn to flush. He reached behind his head, then felt along the crease of the couch, under pillows until he found the little bottle. Yuuri raised an amused eyebrow at him. 

He shrugged. "Just in case,"

Head dipped down, finding the soft patch of skin under Yuuri's ear, and down, licking and sucking tiny marks into the pale skin. Yuuri groaned beautifully, before grabbing a fist full of silver locks, and pulling Victor's head back. Exposing the soft flesh in a wide arch. tendons stained slightly, but if the moan he let escape was anything to go by, Victor didn’t mind one bit. 

Teeth clamped down over the pulse he found fluttering there. An erratic jump beneath the skin. A reassuring hand squeezed along his hip. Pulled him down, towards his crotch. Pushed against the heated flesh in exquisite friction. 

"How do you want to do this?" Victor asked, although breathy. Eyes glazed where they stared up at his lover.

"I prefer to bottom," Yuuri said after a hesitant pause, unable to meet Victor's eye. "But I don’t really mind, I mean - It doesn't really - whatever you want to do is fine."

"I would love to top you, Yuuri Katsuki,"

He met his gaze, seeing adoration sparkle in the clear blue orbs, blown wide with lust. 

He nodded, and sat back.  
Pulled the navy sweater over his head, dislodging the glasses sat precariously on the bridge of his nose, and making his hair stand up even more. Victor followed suit, and wasted no time in leaning forward and latching onto a rosy nipple. Sucking the little nub between his lips and grazing white teeth ever so slightly against it. 

The younger man gasped and startled. A hand flying to Victor's shoulder to steady himself.

"Pants," he gasped finally, and Victor withdrew with a final lick across the skin. A little shudder breaking out.

They stood, unevenly and struggle with the fabric. Finally both garments had been kicked off, flung into some unknown corner. 

Connected everywhere it mattered, skin to heated skin. 

"Get on the couch for me, beautiful," Victor whispered into the small space between their lips.  
"Hands and knees, ass towards me."

Little shuddered breaths left Yuuri's parted lips, trying not to stare at the massive erections they were both sporting at this point. 

He knelt, elbows firmly planted in the soft downing, knees spread, and reached for the lube. Victor accepted with a brush over Yuuri's lower back, admiring the smooth complexion - and the small bruises dotted up his side. His face twisted slightly, but refused to mention it. 

He himself ran into object often enough, no need to make him feel unconscious, he debated. 

"so gorgeous for me," A single lubed finger ran up the dark crack, watching the skin twitch beautifully.  
He knelt, eye level with Yuuri ass, clean fingers running up and down the back of his thighs, admiring the girth of muscle. The perfectly round orbs of ass presented to him. Tracing the lines where hips met legs, and blended into butt. 

Ran his slick finger down from the base of the spine, down over his anus, to the edge of his balls, and further, tracing the velvety skin of Yuuri's cock. Flushed red in excitement. 

The sweetest whimper left the ravens lips, head falling forward onto his arms. 

Moisture collected in Victor's mouth at the sight, twitching hole, still tightly furled, begging to be stretched open. 

A deft lick, straight where Yuuri wanted it most. Lightly, little kitten licks, tip of his tongue tracing the entrance. 

"Please,"

He didn't hear him at first. Words lost between the couch and the barely there whisper. "Please, Victor," He sounded close to tears.  
"Please fuck me," 

"But we've just started,"

Something like a shocked gasp wrung out of his throat, when one slimey digit slipped into his tight hole, clenched around it before relaxing. Feeling the soft walls contract around him, made Victor's dick twitch with excitement. 

"Are you ready for another?" Victor asked, still feeling around Yuuri's inside, stretching him with a single finger buried as deep as it could go. A jerky nod. Curses and moans mixed in with a soft, pleading 'Vitya' every so often. 

Another finger in, a twist and a curl later ha Yuri writhing on his hand. Nearly jumping of the couch with a yelp and a spasm. 

"Found it?? Victor grinned, and pressed down on. Felt Yuuri clench so tight he couldn't move his hand anymore, which left him pressing down continuously. 

"Relax for me, darling," Soft hands skimmed his back, pressed kisses into his shoulders, neck, back, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Slowly he was released, and drew back, before adding more lube and another finger. Three digits deep, in a twitchin Yuuri, was a sight e was not going to forget for a while. Fucking himself on his hand, trying to get him deeper into him, pressing further, tighter, harder. 

Finally, he couldn't wait any longer.  
Pulling his fingers free, Yuuri mewling at the action.  
Using the remaining lube on his hand, Victor gave a few hard tugs on his aching cock.  
“Do you want it like this, or do you want to turn around?”

“Like this.” Yuuri said, breathing hard. “Just like this, please Vitya.”

Victor lined up, Yuuri’s hole fluttered, trying to take him in already, before he pushed in slowly, gasping at the tight clench that greeted him. Just bordering on too tight, but enough to let him know to wait.  
“Breathe, just breathe Yuuri,”

Slowly he released, and Victor pushed on, getting pulled into the silken heat, sunk in until he was balls deep and pulsing. 

Slowly, Victor pulled out, until just the head rested against the stretched entrance, a dark, used red already; and thrust back in, in a single stroke that left them both gasping. Grinding against Yuuri for a second before pulling out again and setting a steady rhythm that had them both moaning obscenities and each others name's between gasps. 

Victor knew he wasn't going to last long. Not with the way Yuuri pushed back against him, every time he pushed forward, making their hips meet with a meaty smack. The way his hole clenched as if he didn't want him to pull away, and sucked him back in with vigor and a whimper. 

"Fuck, Yuuri,”Victor groaned,”turn around." Yuuri mewled and raised himself back up on tired, shaking arms, before flopping over. A hand on his hip, one on Yuuri's knee, spreading him open. Flushed head of his cock resting on the smooth flat of Yuuri’s stomach, traces of pre-cum already leaking heavily. 

When Victor delved back in, a loose fist around Yuuri's cock, jerking him off in time to his thrusts. back lifting off the couch. Muscles flexing dramatically under his skin, and coming all over himself in long shots of white. The sight driving Victor, full force, over the edge as well. Half collapsing on his parter. Fingers stroked through his silver strands slowly, savouring the feeling, nails lightly scratching at his sculp. 

"Are you okay?" Victor finally asked, worry creasing his brow. A warm smile greeted him when he rose up to stare down at his partner. 

"I'm ecstatic," Yuuri flushed.

A small kiss, placed delicately on bridge of his mouth, and lower, one on each corner of his lips, followed by the lightest peck. 

"I really want to clean up now though, can I use your shower?" 

Victor chuckled, "I couldn't agree more. Mind if I join you?" A helping hand pulled Yuuri unsteadily to his feet. Hand on his waist to steady him, and then to draw him closer. Press Yuuri against Victor's warm body. 

"I would love nothing more," A small kiss before he walked off, hips swaying tantalizingly ahead of him. trail of lube and cum slowly making its way down the inside of his thigh, gleaming in the light.  
Victor groaned almost painfully, and raced after him. 

Genuine laughter on his lips for the first time in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

“I don't know where he went!” Pichit cried, voice breaking painfully. Silent sobs left his chest.  
“You’re his roommate, you know exactly what goes on in his life,” The man argued, face hidden, as was the rest of him. Layers of black, from gloves to balaclava, to sturdy boots Pichit now knew the feeling of when the connected to bone. “Stop trying to protect him...and worry about yourself,” The man said, glee audible in his voice.  
Blade gleaming in his hand as he approached.  
Pitchit quivering where he sat strapped to a chair. Watching the man approach with wide eyes.  
“JJ please, I don't know,” He whispered, “I don't know, I don't know, I don't kno-”

***

"Are you sure you're okay to go back?' Victor asked for the third time, worry creasing his silver brows. "I'd be more than happy to take you."

"Vitya, it's okay. I can get back fine. And besides, you have work to do, and I can always get a cab or something if worse comes to worse." Yuuri places a small peck on pouting lips. "Think of it as taking the scenic route or something."  
He shrugged, and walked out the door, a sensual sway to his hips. Victor wanted to rush to him, wrap him in his arms and convince him to stay. 

"I'll call you later, okay?" Yuuri nodded, and closed the door behind him.

Victor had barely shower and dressed before Otabek came strolling into his apartment. Steps heavy on the hardwood. Most people showed their emotions through their face, and tone. 

Otabek was the special kind, where it turned into 80% guesswork, and 15% body language. The rest was just blind luck, or as Yura referred to it, knowing your partner well enough that you didn't need words to communicate.

It helped of course, that they had known each other far longer than Yura had known Otabek.  
"Good, I was hoping I'd waited long enough to not find you naked."

"It is my apartment you know, and not the first time you would have walked in unannounced at a particularly... awkward moment." He flinched at the memory, but shook it off quickly, button the last piece of his shirt. "What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"Please tell me you didn't forget about the meeting," Otabek asked, neck deep in his closed looking for god-knows-what, before finding it. A black blazer to match the white shirt.  
"There's always a meeting to go to Otabek, didn't I ever tell you that?"

"When I first started working for you, yeah." Otabek muttered, rummaging some more through his things before finding the appropriate watch. Something large and silver, from the looks of it. "And I believe you're exact words were: Otabek, there is always a meeting, don't ever let me be late for one again."

"Yup, that sounds about right." A practiced flick brought the watch into Victor's hand on his wrist in record time. "So how late am I for this one?"

"If we move, not too late." Otabek muttered, then checked his phone. "Right on time actually,”

"Perfect," 

Suddenly, the door crashed open, wood flung into the paneling behind it with a dull thud.  
"You could have sent a fucking plane, Victor!"

He knew that voice anywhere. And if Otabek’s surprised intake of breath was anything to go buy, the snarl currently adorned by the youthful face, was none other than-

"Yura, so glad you could make it." Victor grinned, as the young man came into sight. Blond hair, like spun gold, longer than it had been the last time he saw him now sitting comfortably on his shoulders. A flush high on his cheekbones, rage clear in, blue/green eyes. “I saved you some pancakes.” He pointed to the counter, where the cold stack sat precariously close to the edge. 

The young man, 'not a teen,' he kept being reminded, flung himself into the seat without another care, boots propped on the edge of the counter, chair tilted back far enough that Victor started to doubt physics applied to him. Scroll deep set in with his crossed arms.  
But anyone could have seen the little glances he sent the body guard.

"Now that that's been sorted, what else is on the agenda today?"

“You do remember that I’ll be taking time off, since Yuri’s back now? Celestino is taking over for me until I come back.” Otabek said, a little uncertainty in his tone, but that might have just been Victor’s imagination. “I can always stay here, sir. If you want.”

“No, don't be ridiculous.” He grinned, knowing exactly how his time off would be spent. “Enjoy it.”

Otabek graced him with a small smile, and looked to his beloved. 

“I’m gonna say hi to a couple more people. I’ll come find you in a minute.” Yura promised, a small smile on pale lips.  
“Send Celestino in then, would you?”

A few seconds after his departure, the wall of muscle that was Celestino came in, face grim. 

“What do you have for me?”

"Sir, there's been an incident." 

Victor was half a second away from zoning out when he spoke. 

He raised an eyebrow and waited.  
“A kidnapping, sir.”

Something dropped where Victor's heart should be; although currently it sat more like a rock than an organ under his ribs.

Ice wrapped itself around Victor's tone. "Would you like to clarify?"

"The young man we've been following," He began, then swallowed nervously.  
Fear sat heavy in Victor's throat.  
He had seen Yuuri twenty minutes ago. He should be at his apartment right now. Wrapped in his favorite blue blanket, and talking at supersonic speed to his best friend.  
Nothing should have happened in that time.  
Could it?  
"His best friend was taken by the group, and we lost track of them. The young man's whereabouts are currently being assessed but we have it on good authority that the coroner will need to be bribed again."

 _Subtle,_ Victor thought with distaste. But for one morbid second, he was glad it hadn't been Yuuri. 

"And what about Yuuri?"

"I'm right here," Yura prompted dramatically.  
A raised eyebrow went along the deadly stare. 

"No, my boyfriend," Victor said, and regretted it almost immediately.  
Now was not the time for sentimental statements. "Who shares your namesake, ironically enough."

"He was last spotted close his apartment building." 

Victor's eyes darkened. "And then? Where is he now?"

Yura grinned. "Lost your boy-toy already?"

“He was taken?”

“How is that possible, he just left!”  
Yura raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet. 

“A few people saw him being grabbed and put in the back of a car, with no plates, outside his apartments block.” 

***

“I can explain, JJ please, it's a misunderstanding!”  
“Can someone shut him up, please?” JJ groaned, chin supported on his hand, eyes flickering over the scene flying past the speeding car.  
Black, from hat Yuuri had seen as it pulled up next to him, dragging him into the leather interior before he had time to scream. “I don't really care what you have to say right now, short stuff.”

Tears threatened to spill down supple cheeks, the burning in Yuuri’s eyes nothing compared to the constricting feeling in his ribs. He tasted betrayal at the back of his throat.  
“Please tell me what happening,” Yuuri pleaded in a small voice. “I don't understand what's going on.”

JJ scoffed. “All this and you still don't get it?”  
"Victor was playing you, and now we're playing him." JJ muttered, distaste scewing his features into an ugly mask.  
"He wasn't playing me, he couldn't have. I love him."  
"Oh, so he just happened to see you, fall madly in love, just because he loves you? How stupid do you have to be? Love at first sight doesn’t happen. He was trying to get into the gang from the inside, destroy us through you! Why do you think we've been trying to get rid of him?!" He had escalated to yelling, each word spat in Yuuri's direction. 

Yuuri's mouth open, then closed, suddenly dry and blank. As if the world world had just turned on its head.  
"Victor doesn't have anything to do with the gang, or you." 

"Victor Nikiforov is the head of the Russian Mafia in New York, the largest and most notorious gang this city has seen in decades, and you think he has nothing to do with this? I can't even listen to you right now."

Yuuri had seen all the pieces, laid out in an elaborate lie that he had believed as if his world dependent on it. And in a sense it had. But as JJ spoke, the moved, rearranged and fell in an untenable picture that showed nothing but his own naivety and blind trust in a man he didn't even know.  
Breathing erratic, too much yet too little air was getting to Yuuri, gasping for breath he hadn’t realized he was crying till JJ threw a tissue at him. 

"It's okay Yuuri," He muttered, "We'll get him for you. Then you can forget this ever happened." Something tightened in his gut. But he couldn't identify it. Disgust crawled, heavy and thick up his throat. 

He had been played. 

Victor was going to die.

It's all my fault.

***

 

"Victor, you need to calm down," Celestino's heavy voice cut through his pacing, but all he saw was red.  
"The only person on this planet who can tell me to calm down is Otabek. Know your place." He snapped, voice full of uncontrolled rage. 

“No, you sent him away at the one time that you really needed him.” Yura barked. 

“I’m not calling him back.”

“I never said you have to.”

“Then shut the fuck up, Yura.”  
The pacing wasn't helping. The obsessing wasn't either. And yelling had never accomplished anything, but that didn't mean Victor wouldn't try right now.

“I want everyone looking for him, right now. Check everywhere, I don't care how you do it. Get him back.” 

“Victor, that's not smart and you know it.” Yura stated, tired and worn out already. “What are you going to do when he have half of the staff are sitting in a jail cell?” 

“Then what do you want me to do? They’ll kill him.”

Yura’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Then he dies.”

He was a fraction away from throttling Yura where he sat, still perched at the counter, fingers delicately around an empty fork.  
“I have no patience for you right now, Yura so-” 

The insistent ringing off a phone cut Victor off. His hand was closed around the black device before he realized it.  
“What?”

“We found him.”

It took exactly seven minutes for Victor to leap out of his apartment, down to the basement and into the first car he saw.  
Another 15 minutes for him to get to Yuuri’s apartment, spent screaming at traffic and anyone that tried to calm him down.  
And one minute for him to find Yuuri’s apartment completely deserted. Only a few men in suits he should have recognized littered around the place. 

“He’s not here,” Victor said in a quiet voice. Yura’s expression morphed from smug to terrified as soon as he faced his Boss.  
His head fell, stared at the floor and backed up slowly, hands raised in surrender.  
“Victor, please calm down,’ He muttered quietly. 

The world bled crimson, and when he came to, black gun was snug in his hands and blood was seeping into one of the decorative rugs covering the floor. A man in a suit creating the puddle, face first on hardwood with no sign of ever getting up again. 

“Why am I here, when Yuuri isn't?” He barked, slowly coming back to himself. 

“There was disturbance notified here, about thirty minutes ago.” One of the men at the back explained. “At the time, Yuuri was found and taken by JJ’s gang, but they left someone behind for us to find.”

Victor waited, very patiently, he thought, as the man recalled the details of what they found, in what order and how it might be relevant. Even if he was imagining the color his face would turn if eh started choking him mid sentence. 

“So where is he now?” Victor cut in. 

“With JJ,” 

He silently counted to ten in his head. “And what exactly are we doing here, then?”

“The man that we found said that, if we follow them in any way or approach their compound, they would start chopping off pieces.”

He took a deep breath. Smelt blood, and the fading scent of fake pine as the cologne of too many people blanketed the air. He felt light headed. Sick to his stomach and ready to throttle anything and anyone that stood in his way. 

“Yura, suggestions?”

“We wait.” Victor raised an eyebrow and recommend him to continue. “They’ll start demanding stuff soon. So we can negotiate.”

“The Mafia doesn't negotiate, child!”  
The man had a bullet in his chest as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Victor nodded once, then announced that he was going back to his apartment. “As soon as they so much as breathe in the wrong direction, I want to know about it. Nothing is to be done without me present, is that understood?”

A collective nod was all he received. 

 

Two hours later The Russian Mafia, received their first and only demand.  
“They want my head on a silver platter?”  
“It could be a reference to your hair?” Yura supplied helpfully.  
Celestino snorted, “I can't believe we’re actually doing this,”

“I can't believe Yura stuck around when he could be off doing unspeakable things to his boyfriend right now.”

A blush so furious the bottom floor probably felt it exploded on Yura’s face. “Fuck off.”  
“They’ll trade Yuuri for me, of course we’re doing it.”

Within the hour, everything had been prepared. Victor was armed, and ready. As was everyone else that was going to be involved. 

Yura gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Stick to the plan, and don't get killed.”

“That may be nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

“Fuck off, I’m leaving as soon you walk out that door, you know. Beka’s still waiting on me at his apartment.”

“Good luck, Yuri.”

A painfully tight smile on Yura’s thin lips. “Good luck, old man.”

An old warehouse came into view as they rounded another corner, the car gliding along old pavement and not even feeling the dents and potholes. It looked identical to all the other ones, each one filled with the suspicion that it could be the one. But his driver seemed to know the way. This one stood slightly apart from the others, a little less run down, a tiny bit more managed than the broken windows would suggest. 

He sighed inwardly and thanked his father for leaving him an established headquarters.  
Old gasoline greeted him, the smell like needles in his nose as he stepped out of the car, still a fair distance from the actual building. 

He half hoped to have Yuuri fly out the main door towards him as soon as he set foot on the old concrete. Embrace the young man in his arms, see that no damage had been done. No hair disturbed on his precious head. 

“We’ll be right here, Boss.”  
He gave a reassuring smile, and began to walk.


	5. Chapter 5

The scene that greeted him could have been out of the worst gangster film ever made. 

Dozens of people, in jeans and hoodies, t shirts with faded slogans and sneakers. Not that it's a bad look, but the baseball bat slung over shoulders, one guy with an axe as his feet, a handful with knives and a couple of people huddles around their box cutters made a somewhat pathetic image. 

Or maybe Victor just had exceptionally high standards. 

“So kind of you to show up, Mr. Nikiforov,” A condescending voice ran through the space. Echoed off the rafters and buzzed between the crowd that parter for him as he approached. 

“Well, when you ask so _nicely_ JJ, who am I to refuse?” He called back. “And it's Victor, Mr Nikiforov was my father, no need to be reminded of him, right?”

JJ barked a laugh as he finally came into view, unarmed, casually pressed against what could only be described as a stage, grand old floor boards nailed together into a raised platform that stretched a few feet in each direction.

“Of course,” He nodded. “Now let’s talk business, I know you're not one for idle chatting.”

The silver haired man stopped a few feet from JJ. “Where’s Yuuri?”

“Safe,” JJ grinned, “Not that you care.”

“Me being here should be enough indication of the contrary,”

JJ lips pursed, and he leaned further back for a second, getting comfortable against the edge.   
“And on another note, you do realize I’ll be walking out of here, right?”

“Not with all your fingers you're not. Or should I say crawl? Can't walk on broken legs.”

Amusement tugged up the corners of victors lips into a grin like broken glass. All hard edges and sharp corners.   
But he took real pleasure in the uncertain look that passed over JJ face, even if for just a second. 

“You’re a businessman, you know that everything has a price.”  
“Not this,” JJ glared, regaining some of the bravado. “This, you can't buy your way out of.”

“So what, I’d be paying you?” Head tilted to the side slightly, white hair falling over one eye slightly. “I have the police force on the payroll. They’ll be here on my command… or not. It really is up to you. I wonder what bail would be for you? I know mine.”

JJ paled for a second, swallowed heavily, as if he just realized who he was trying to play. 

A little late, in Victor’s opinion; but timing was everything, and he had, had opportunity. 

“Not curious then, why we wanted you here?”

“Considering that they,” He indicated, arms raised on either side and turned, gesturing to the crowd slowly closing him in, “Had no clue why you’re obsessed with me, I’ll be happy to listen to your little monologue.” 

His face turned a dangerous shade of red, before slowly fading back to his normal color paled with the help of a few deep breaths.   
Victor just smiled. A little pleased grin at JJ silent outburst.   
The little leader hadn't been playing the game long enough to be considered a real threat, and he knew it. Rubbing it in just made it more enjoyable. 

“We’re the ones who sent the hit out on you,” JJ said as if it was breaking news.

“You’re point?” 

JJ starter laughing.  
Hysterically amused.   
Victor might have been more surprised if an elephant bursted through the side of the building at that point. 

“Good, it was never about killing you,” He admitted, wiping at his eyes. “It was just about destroying you. But you kind of handed us the gun on that one.”

“I’m sure I don't know what you mean, JJ”

“Let him go,”   
He addressed the gaping crowd behind him. “If you want to leave, all you have to do is walk out of here. No one’s gonna stop you.”

“That seems a tad suspicious. Mind telling me why?”

“Because you’ve already destroyed yourself, just by showing up here. By falling for that little idiot. By all the bullshit you’ve done up till now.”

He took a reluctant step back. Then another, turned to see the mass of people, equally confused but moving out of his way anyway. 

Ready for a fight, tense and rigid with every step. 

Victor glared ice daggers at anyone that he passed, that shifted just a fraction too much, Daring them to lay a hand on him. 

He had gotten what he wanted, Yuuri safe and returned, he could live without bloodshed for one night if it meant seeing him again. 

There was always tomorrow, when he could com back with machine guns and helicopters, flatten this building and everyone in it. 

No one approached him until he was outside, back at his car, still parked and awaiting orders where he had left it.

“Yuuri has been brought to the safe house after he was delivered to his apartment building. His friend has not been recovered, sir.” 

He could see the curiosity swimming in their gaze, but knowing not to ask right now.   
They would find out eventually, just not from him.

“Take me to him,” He commanded in a dead voice, dread settling into the pit of his stomach as he got in the leather upholstery. 

JJ’s message hadn’t been for nothing.

It was just a matter of time before it revealed itself. 

 

***

Ragged breath, dragged out of his lungs in short bursts. Tears burned down his cheeks, why was his skin so _cold_?   
Yuuri felt heavy, like his bones were made of led, incase in rubber, pulling him down into the hardwood. Not feeling the carpet beneath him, trying not to the stain across from him.  
Blood. 

One of the many decorative cushions Pichit had scattered everywhere was clutched to his chest, the tips of his fingers aching from where they dug too hard into the fabric. Bits of glitter and crystals made little dents in his hands where he help onto them, but he couldn't bear to let go. 

He knew someone was going to approach him soon, and from the looks on the aces of the men around him, he knew it wasn't going to be comfortable. 

It only made him sob harder, try to contain it under his ribs, and almost choke on the feeling.

“Kid, you’re gonna pass out.”  
“Breathe, for god’s sake. The Boss will kill us if you pass out now.”  
“He’s right, can you just calm down, please?”  
“Kid?”  
“His he even listening?”  
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?”  
“God, we’re so dead.”  
“Didn't someone say you should slap them if their hyperventilating?”  
“Really? You want to hit the kid?”  
“I’m just saying, worth a shot.”  
“If you want to get shot, yeah sure, go right ahead. I’m not gonna stop ya.”  
“Wait, is he calming down?”  
“Can you shut up please, I don't want to get too close to him.”  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
“What, you want the boss walking in seeing you too lose to the kid?”  
“He is kinda cute. If you ignore the snot and stuff.”  
“Bro, seriously?”  
“What?!”  
“He’s the boss’ toy.”  
“So? No harm in looking.”

Yuuri’s breathing slowed. Even breaths, but the pain in his chest didn't cease, almost threatening to spill over again.   
He closed his eyes and focused, like he’d been taught. Like Pichit had been trying to get him to do.  
Pichit.  
He’d seen the pictures.   
On JJ’s phone to less.   
_Victor did this.  
He’s not who he says.  
He’s a murderer.   
He wanted your friend out of the way._

Bruises, if they could still be called that. More like a second skin. At first he thought it was paint, that dotted up his arms.   
Purple and blue, turning an acidic green around the edges. Dotting up both arms. Blood dripped down his legs, from his toes to the floor. Strapped to the chair, slightly elevated and in no way comfortable. 

One eye swollen shut, the other full of crusted tears rendering it just as useless. 

Yuuri remember the taste of bile at the back of his throat, at seeing the was left of Pichit’s left arm.   
Bone sticking out at an unnatural angle, not yet breaking the skin but stretching it outwards. 

How long had he been left like this?  
Why would Victor-?

 _I have to get to him_ , he thought distantly, brought to his feet before he realized.   
Hand on the doorknob before just as the guards noticed. Strong hands seized him. Pulled him back. Trapped his arms against his sides as they dragged him away from his escape. 

Yelling in his ears, but he couldn't hear them.   
Deaf over the rush of blood in his ears and the throbbing of hate bubbling up his throat. 

Yuuri was half way across the room before the door opened, slowly, unsure. And he stopped dead in his tracks. 

A silver head poked through the gap. Something tightened in Yuuri’s heart and he stopped struggling. The hands on him dropped as if burned.   
“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, a breath of air.   
He flew across the room. Almost not touching the floor in his haste. 

He knew he flinched when Victor’s arms locked around him. Trapping him in a hug he didn't reciprocate.  
Instead h stepped back. Out of Victor's arms, out of his reach.   
Disgust a clear sneer on his lips. 

“Get off me,” Yuuri demanded, proud of the clear way his voice ran out in the dead silence of the room. “Don't touch me, Victor.”

Victor’s face fell. “Yuuri?” Licked his lips and swallowed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”  
“You’re a killer.” Yuuri spat, venom behind every word. “Get away from me.”

Yuuri wanted to get away, to get past him and out the door. Find Pichit and get them back home.   
“I want to forget I ever met you. Get out. And take your suits with you.”

“Yu-”  
“Get Out!” Yuuri finally screamed. “Get out, get out, get out! Get away from me! Leave!”   
Vicor backed away slowly, Not turning away. Watching tears roll down his face and trying to hold back ones of his own.   
_I don't understand._ He wanted to say. _Talk to me, please. Let me help._  
But he stayed silent.   
Grabbed blindly for the door handle, and understood. 

JJ had taken what he loved most, destroyed the one thing he valued the most. Something money and power could never reclaim. 

He had taken Yuuri.

His men followed him out. Silent and sombre. 

Pain reflected in Victor’s eyes as he disappeared around the white door frame.   
Yuuri slammed the door behind them as they left. Locked it for good measure, savouring the heavy click it made.   
And collapsed behind it. Back to it, knees drawn up to his chest where they collapsed.   
Ragged sobs he couldn't control of stop clawed out his throat.   
His head ached. Everything hurt.   
_Why does it have to hurt?_  
And he knew, this time there was no one there to help him calm down. His best friend was still missing, Victor was gone and with any luck, never coming back. Not even well meaning guards there to bicker over his pain. 

 

For the first time in a long time, he felt how alone he was, like a weight on his shoulders pushing him down.   
When he opened his eyes again, it was night. The small flat shrouded in darkness, slivers of light gliding across walls and the floor. 

Fingers like ice, back as if encased in stone. 

_I have to move_ , he thought. _JJ will know what do. He can help me._

It took another three hours before he moved from his spot by the door. And almost morning again by the time he was out of the flat and walking towards the warehouse. Completely on autopilot, almost surprised to find his way there. And not get mugged in the process. 

Not that it mattered at this point. 

It wasn't a regular meet-up. Unannounced, he made his way through the grand space. Footsteps echoing distantly as he walked. 

A small cube was carved out of the left wall near the back, a make shift office. Every boss had to have one, JJ had insisted.   
Yuuri found JJ asleep in his chair, head tilted to the side at an awkward angle, only supported by the head rest and part of his own shoulder.   
There was a theory that JJ lived in the compound. Never leaving the place. Food stored in the cabinets behind him. Sleeping in the chair he was in. 

Yuuri always thought it was a stupid theory.   
But seeing him there-

He stirred, a gasping breath as he startled awake, bleary eyed and sleep disheveled.  
“Yuuri,” he croaked painfully and reached for the can of soft drink on his desk. “What's up?”

“I just saw Victor?”  
He was awake in an instant. “Just now?”  
“Last night,” 

Silence for a beat or two, “How did it go?”

“I left him.” Tears threatened to spill again, as he locked to the floor, shame in every word. “There’s no way I can be with a monster.”  
“I’m glad you saw reason.”  
“Has he given Pichit back? Is he okay?”  
A small grin, full of reassurance. “Yeah, we got Pichit back maybe an hour ago. He’s being taken care-”  
“Can I see him? Where is he? Is he her-”  
“He is, but he’s still unconscious.”   
“Unconscious,”   
_Victor beat him to unconsciousness.  
Maybe he got someone else to do it. - Wouldn't want to get his precious suit bloody._

“I should have punched him.” Yuuri muttered to himself, and earned himself a new grin JJ.   
“It’s okay, Yuuri. We’ll get him.” He promised solemnly, and for once, Yuuri believed him. 

“I can't believe he would do this,” Yuuri whispered, exhausted. “I can't believe he would-”  
A sob wrecked out of his chest. New tears spilled down his face. Collecting in his lashes. 

“I don't care if he’s awake or not, I want to see Pichit,”

Hospitals ask too many questions. Who is he?   
What's your relation to him?  
How did he get these injuries?   
Would you like to file a report with the police?   
We will keep this on file you know. Best to be honest now.  
The room was sterile, stank of bleach and lemon.

The two had spent many nights in each others company, from when they first met to even know that they lived together. Yuuri knew Pichit’s habits as well as he knew his own, just as Pichit knew him inside and out.   
Like Pichit was a stomach sleeper. Always had been. Sleep overs and movie night, sometimes lasting days, you would have to be blind not to notice the off way his body seeme to fold in on itself in his sleep. Amrs and hands tucked under his body, legs almost crossed. 

It was startling to see him flat on his back, arms resting by his side to mimic a peaceful rest, even as his bandages seeped red. 

From where Yuuri stood by the foot of the bed, it looked staged and cold. 

Yuuri's heart broke watching him lie there.   
"I’ll give you a minute," JJ muttered and left the room. A section had been spared and rebuilt in the warehouse, now serving as the infirmary.   
Painted white, a few hospital beds lined a wall. All were vacant apart from one. 

There were doctors that came by, made sure the patient was treated properly and would survive whatever injury they had sustained. from bullet wounds, knife cuts and concussions, Christophe made certain they would survive. 

Yuuri sat on the bed next to Pichit’s arms, and watched him breathe. Just to make sure he would. HIs face was still swollen and blue in areas.   
Amrs bandaged, and he knew without looking that they extended down the rest of his body as well. 

Hatred burned in his chest again.  
How could I have been so blind?

He took Pichits hand in his, felt the pulse flutter at the wrist, and the cold flesh limp in his palm.   
Tugging the blanket tighter around his body delicately. Anything to try to relieve the cold, and the pain. 

"I'll make him regret doing this, I swear."

There was no one but his friend around to hear him, but it didn't matter. He knew in his heart that Victor would pay. One way or another, The Mafia Boss would not survive this, no matter who he payed. 

After about an hour, in which time no one disturbed him, and he recalled everything that had happened since he had last seen his room mate, he left as well. Tears stinging in his eyes, chest tight and getting tighter with each step. JJ greeted him at the door, face turned towards his phone, leaning casually against the wall a foot away from the door.   
"Ready?"  
"I want in," JJ gave him a blank look. "I want in on the hit. I know I'm just a runner for you but-"  
"No it’s okay. I know. Sure, we can always have more dedicated people help out." He grinned good naturedly, as if they weren't talking about murder.


	6. Chapter 6

Hospitals ask too many questions. Who is he?   
What's your relation to him?  
How did he get these injuries?   
Would you like to file a report with the police?   
We will keep this on file you know. Best to be honest now.  
The room was sterile, stank of bleach and lemon.

The two had spent many nights in each others company, from when they first met to even know that they lived together. Yuuri knew Pichit’s habits as well as he knew his own, just as Pichit knew him inside and out.   
Like Pichit was a stomach sleeper. Always had been. Sleep overs and movie night, sometimes lasting days, you would have to be blind not to notice the off way his body seeme to fold in on itself in his sleep. Amrs and hands tucked under his body, legs almost crossed. 

It was startling to see him flat on his back, arms resting by his side to mimic a peaceful rest, even as his bandages seeped red. 

From where Yuuri stood by the foot of the bed, it looked staged and cold. 

Yuuri's heart broke watching him lie there.   
"I’ll give you a minute," JJ muttered and left the room. A section had been spared and rebuilt in the warehouse, now serving as the infirmary.   
Painted white, a few hospital beds lined a wall. All were vacant apart from one. 

There were doctors that came by, made sure the patient was treated properly and would survive whatever injury they had sustained. from bullet wounds, knife cuts and concussions, Christophe made certain they would survive. 

Yuuri sat on the bed next to Pichit’s arms, and watched him breathe. Just to make sure he would. HIs face was still swollen and blue in areas.   
Amrs bandaged, and he knew without looking that they extended down the rest of his body as well. 

Hatred burned in his chest again.  
How could I have been so blind?

He took Pichits hand in his, felt the pulse flutter at the wrist, and the cold flesh limp in his palm.   
Tugging the blanket tighter around his body delicately. Anything to try to relieve the cold, and the pain. 

"I'll make him regret doing this, I swear."

There was no one but his friend around to hear him, but it didn't matter. He knew in his heart that Victor would pay. One way or another, The Mafia Boss would not survive this, no matter who he payed. 

After about an hour, in which time no one disturbed him, and he recalled everything that had happened since he had last seen his room mate, he left as well. Tears stinging in his eyes, chest tight and getting tighter with each step. JJ greeted him at the door, face turned towards his phone, leaning casually against the wall a foot away from the door.   
"Ready?"  
"I want in," JJ gave him a blank look. "I want in on the hit. I know I'm just a runner for you but-"  
"No it’s okay. I know. Sure, we can always have more dedicated people help out." He grinned good naturedly, as if they weren't talking about murder. 

“JEAN-JACQUES LEROY,” The unmistakable voice of Victor rang through the warehouse. 

He heard them before he saw them.expensive shoes clicking on the concrete, at the helm, Victor, in all his shining glory. 

He was never not going to be unaffected by the sight of him. Although this time around, it morphed from ‘HOT DAMN’ to ‘Someone get me a baseball bat for his face.’  
Yuuri could lip read well enough to see the gasp of his name as Victor saw him. 

“Only my parents call me that, Victor.” JJ said as they approached. Still a considerable distance between them, but hopelessly outnumbered. Victor had brought his whole entourage; while JJ faced him supported with Yuuri at his back, and a handful of high schoolers who happened to be there even further back with no reason to get any closer than they had to. 

“Or they _did_ , a long time ago.” 

This time around there was no denying the blind execration on JJ face.   
“You think you're so clever, taking Yuuri from me. As if I’ll have nothing left once he’s gone.”  
“You don't have anything left.” JJ barked, anger blanketing every word. “Without him, you're nothing but a weak, pathetic man in an expensive suit and a group blind followers.” 

“And what does that make you?” Victor was still decidedly calm. Nothing betraying the cool demeanor he set.   
“Because I would call you a liar. And a cheat.” 

“You don't know anything,” JJ spat, taking a step forward.   
A smile, sharp as glass adorned Victor's face. Blue eyes like steel. 

“What do you want, Victor?”  
“To welcome you, of course.” JJ frowned, anger momentarily sidetracked. “To the Big Leagues, didn't think you’d have it in you.” 

“What do you mean, Victor?” Yuuri asked with as much calm as he could muster, it came out more uncertain than he’s intended, but at least it slowed their staring match.

“JJ didn't tell you? Why he wants me out of the way?”  
“Of course he did. He doesn't lie to us.” The implication clear. Victor's face fell, meaning not lost on him in the slightest. The sight alone made Yuuri inexplicably happy.   
“I am sorry about that. I didn't want to scare you off I-”  
“I don't care why.” Yuuri barked. “What are you doing here?”

Victor nodded. “What did he tell you then, my darling?”

“You're the competition, of course we’d want you out of the way.”  
“The competition?” He smiled sardonically. “Are we competing for felonies? Last I checked we’re in completely different categories when it comes to organised crime.”   
He took another step closer. Filling up the space between them. “Try again, darling.”  
“Stop calling me that.”  
“Answer me properly and I will.”  
Yuuri swallowed nervously. That was the only reason JJ had given. It made sense at the time. Yuuri didn't know the in’s and out’s of everything. He was barely a player.   
If there was another reason…. He hadn't been privy to it. Yuuri glanced at JJ, who shifted nervously.   
“Nothing? Well, darling, let me tell you a story.”  
“I don't want to hear it.”  
“Too bad.” 

Victor’s face grew dark, gaze hardening further and focusing on JJ.  
“Just leave Yuuri,”JJ said, “Don't let him lie to you further.”  
“So what, instead of me, it's you lying to him?”   
JJ’s jaw tensed, veins and tendons standing out of his neck. “Leave Yuuri.”

Yuuri started to back away when Victor began. 

“A few years ago, we were still dealing in money laundering. Now it's not such a big part of our organization, for a few reasons. This being one of them.” Yuuri froze, watching the uncomfortable shift in JJ posture to the almost haunched way Victor stood.   
_He’s telling the truth._  
“In a gambling den that’s no longer owned by us, there was a young man that came there often. No wife, and a young son. He would have been… early high school age, I'm guessing. Never really met the kid myself.”  
JJ froze. Muscles hardening, shoulders a tight line as he listened, just as entrapped a Yuuri. 

“He wasn’t a very good gambler, you see Yuuri. So he racked up quite a debt with us. But instead of paying it, or maybe, just stop gambling for a bit, he kept going. And his debt got bigger, and bigger. He even offered to sell us his son at one point. Don't give me that look, darling, I refused, of course. Children never really interested me. It got to a point where nothing he could do or say was gonna save him.”

“Shut up,” 

It was the first time JJ ha spoken since Victor began. Icy blue eyes flicked to him, before focusing on Yuuri again.  
“So when the time came-”  
Shut up!”  
“We had no choice.”  
“Shut UP!”  
“We had to get rid of him.”  
“I SAID SHUT UP!” 

JJ lunged, but didn't get far. A wall of muscle and strength sidestepped Victor and intercepted him before he got close enough to land a finger on the Mafia Boss.   
“Don't hurt him, Celestino.” Victor instructed, not the least bit fazed. “I baited him. It's okay, let him go.”  
Celestino released him from his choke hold, and dropped JJ to the floor, where he coughed and squirmed, hands around his throat. 

“If you hadn't guessed yet, the little boy that was left behind, went by Jean-Jacque when he was younger. Although now, he calls himself JJ.”

“So what, you killed his father. No wonder he wants you dead.” Yuuri reasoned. 

“Sure. I would probably do the same thing.” Victor agreed, taking a few more steps forward not that JJ wasn't in his way anymore. “But then I did a little research.” 

“How would you even research this? You knew from the start.” JJ couched from the floor. 

“You think you’re the only one with spies?” Victor snapped. “Pichit was mine. I planted him here years ago.” Yuuri’s breath caught. “And you beat him half to death.” 

His world spun. The ground tilted dangerously. Vision going blurry as if his glasses fell of his face.   
He could hear him, each word spoken clearly and distinctly. But they didn't fit together in his head. Breath going shallower with every intake.   
“You're lying. You’re the one that hurt Pichit. You’re the reason he’s still unconscious.”

“Yuuri, if I had him beaten, he wouldn't be alive right now.”

“But, you-”  
“No, JJ lied to you. He lied to all of you.”  
“So we should just believe you know?” JJ gasped, finally getting to his feet. “Pichit can't corroborate your story right now, can he? Very convenient, wouldn't you agree?”  
“I would, if he was the only mole I had planted in here.”   
JJ paled. Hands curling and uncurling at his side. “Who?”

 

Everything happened very fast, after Victor's story was verified. A man from the back stepped forward, uncertain at first, but after careful encouragement from Victor, he was very thorough in explaining everything that hadn't been said.  
Yuuri stood, shaking on the sidelines as the man spoke. Victor drifted closer to him, almost unconsciously seeking Yuuri’s side. 

Victor was so focused on Yuuri, he didn't see the man creeping closer. Didn't notice the gleam in the man’s eye as his focus zoned it.   
The sudden gleam of a blade not realized till it was embedded in Victor's side.   
A pain gasp left his lips as he hunched over. Hands gripping the wound where the knife stuck out at an awkward angle.  
Closer examination saw it jammed under his ribs, aimed at his heart.

Yuuri doesn't remember much of what happened later. A fist came flying at him during the scuffle, and everything went black.

He woke up in a huge bed, surrounded by mountains of pillows and blankets all pale, soft cotton, that was definitely not his. Double door let out, but they were closed. Dark wood against the white walls. 

A nagging feeling at the back of his head told him he should be familiar with this setting, but nothing he saw as.  
Deliberating whether to grace his host - whoever that might be, with his presence, or wait a few more minutes in the warmth and comfort of the sheets, turned into falling back asleep almost instantly. 

When he awoke again, it was to the sound of the door clicking open.   
“You’re awake?” Otabek asked. He had been around Otabek enough that he seemed like a permanent fixture, glued to Victors back.   
“Is this Victor’s place?”  
Otabek nodded, and looked lost for half a second, before his eyes met Yuuri’s again.   
“Do you want me to leave or-”  
“I was just going to get up anyway.” Yuuri said quickly, not wanting to kick him out, when it seemed more like Otabek’s space than his own.   
He kicked the covers back, seeing him still completely dressed as he was before. Black jeans and a sweater. Only his shoes had been removed, set neatly beside the bed.   
“Who-?”  
“I did.”  
He waited a breath or two. “Thank you.” 

Yuuri followed the black haired guard out the doors, and was met with a young man, light blonde hair framed his face in a long bob that, although feminine, didn't take away from him at all. It seemed to add to his personality. As did the oversized cat sweater.   
“Is that the pig?” he glared, huge blue-green narrowing to dangerous slits. “The one Victor’s obsessing over?”  
Otabek glided over as if he wasn't spitting venom in Yuuri’s direction, slid his palm over the man’s shoulder and kissed the top of his head.   
“That’s Yuuri. Yuuri, meet Yura.”   
Yura glared harder.   
“Where’s Victor?”

Otabek froze where he stood next to Yura, hand still idly on the blonde's shoulder, tightening a fraction as his gaze went everywhere but Yuuri.   
“Is he okay?” A sudden image of blood, gushing through a white shirt and soaking everything crimson. Victor collapsing to his knees under the strain, face white and then a sickly green as he held the wound at his side.   
Seeing Yuuri’s expression, Yura’s face softened ever so slightly. “He’s not dead.”  
The way he said it made it seem as though he was facing a fatge much worse than death, and Yuuri was the cause. 

He took a deep breath, and focused on not panicking. “Could you please tell me what happened?”  
“After you were knocked out,” Otabek muttered reluctantly, “We got you and Victor away as fast as possible, and burned the building to the ground.”

Yuuri’s dark eyes widened. Images of burned corpses, flayed flesh sticking out of charred rubble made bile burn at the back of his throat. 

“And Vitya?”  
Only Otabek’s hand kept Yura in his seat. “He almost died because of you!”   
“Yura-”  
“He passed out from blood loss! We had to keep him sedated so he would try and leave the fucking room to go check on you when he couldn't even walk! Because your fat ass has to be more important that his fucking life”

“Yura!” Otabek yelled, and Yura actually shrunk a little, then quieter: “It’s not hs fault.”  
“Sure sounded like it.” The young man pouted. Anger momentarily forgotten under the attention on the bodyguard.   
“We shouldn't be telling you this but,” Otabek glanced at him, if only for a moment, “he spent every second that you were away worrying. I couldn't get him to eat, he wouldn't sit still. After you left was a nightmare. And I think he should tell you this himself, but I know he’s a coward when it comes to his emotions and actually saying anything so I will. He loves you. And I don't think anything you say or do is going to change that.”

Tears sprung to Yuuri’s eyes before he could stop them. “I’m so sorry.” He blubbered. “I didn't mean- He was -and I- I'm sorry I-” Muttered dissolving into tears and ragged sobs. 

“Beka, do something. I can't deal with crying people.”  
“You think I know what to do here?”

“BEKA?!” Victor's unmistakable voice rang through the house and shut everyone up instantly. “DID YOU MAKE YUURI CRY?!”

“I’m gonna go check on him,” He muttered and stalked off, shoulders hunched as if he were walking towards his execution, not his Boss.   
Yuuri followed without being asked. Needed to see the man, no matter what state he was in. 

Blue.  
It was the first thing that came to mind when Yuuri tip toed cautiously into the room.   
From the walls, to the sheets, even the rug under the bed was a dark shade of blue.   
And in the centre of it all, a silver head poked out between the bedding.   
A chair had been set up beside the bed; with elbows supported on knees, the man leaned forward so he could be close to Victor when they talked. 

“How is he, Christophe?” Otabek asked the dirty-blonde.  
Christophe gave him a weak smile. “He’ll be back to normal in no time. How are you, Yuuri? I saw to you when you got knocked out. Sorry for the confusion.”  
Victor was still staring at him as if he wasn't sure he was real.   
It took a few tries before he was able to answer. “I’m fine.” Christophe didn't seem to believe him, if the way his eyes narrowed, were any indication, but he didn't mention it. 

He shot Yuuri a weak smile, and patted Victor on his exposed hand. “We’ll give you guys a minute. Come on Beka.”  
“Don't call me that,” He snapped half heartedly, was already being dragged by the hand out of the room. 

Yuuri swallowed awkwardly, nerves almost getting the better of him. The urge to run was great, but somehow, his feet wouldn't move from where they were cemented to the floor.

Finally he whispered.   
“So I guess we should talk?”


	7. Chapter 7

“I know this isn't really the time, considering everything that’s happened,” Victor said shallowly, fingers animated and desperate, “But if we want this to work, and I do, we’re gonna have to talk about this. All of this. No more secrets.”

“No more secrets?”  
Victor nodded, almost incertain. Face unreadable from where he studied Yuuri.  
“Who's the blonde?”

“Yura? Beka’s boyfriend?”   
“Yeah. What does he do?”  
Victor blinked a couple times, a Yuuri folded his arms tightly. He wasn't sure why he was asking, but it seemed a better place to start than their brief and fleeting, suddenly dysfunctional relationship.   
“He just came back, so you wouldn't have seen him around before,” Victor explained, settling back against the pillows. “I had him manage a new shipment of drugs that some dealer wanted at a stupidly high price he was willing to pay, and set up a new drug run for us while he was at it.”

It came out sounding professionally distant, as if they were discussing the weather. It was more unnerving than if he had been emotional about it.   
“My turn, why did you join a gang? Wasn't there anything else for you?”

When Yuuri’s knees almost gave out, he sat on the edge of the mattress at Victor’s feet.   
Still as far from him as he could. 

“It wasn't really by choice.”He took a deep, pained breath. “My parents own an onsen, kinda like a bathhouse, or spa, I guess. And they got into some debt. A huge amount of debt. We couldn't pay for anything anymore. School, food, the inn was barely running as it was. So I moved out, one less mouth to feed.”

“That must have been very difficult.”

“It was, so when Pichit told me about this gig he has, being a runner for this street gang, I thought, what else is there? What is there left to lose? And this would provide for me, as well as my family. At the time, there wasn't really a downside. Hand over a few pounds of cocaine, tag a couple buildings, scope out areas when JJ wanted to rob a place. It was stupidly easy.”

“What about your parents?”  
“Do you mean, do my well meaning, completely conservative law abiding parents know I joined a gang to help them out? Then no, they have no idea.”

“Your turn.”

Victor laughed softly. “I am the head of the Russian Mafia. The position was handed to me by my father, who was the Boss before me. Think of it as the family business.”  
“I guess that explains all the guards.”  
He nodded sadly. “There’s a lot of stuff that I didn’t want to involve you in. That you shouldn't have to find out about. But I do want to apologize for lying to you, Yuuri.”

“I understand that you did it to protect me, but it still hurts to know that i was dating someone that doesn't exist.”

“Then we have the same problem, don't you think?” Victor's eyebrows drew together in irritation. “You lied to me as well. The Yuuri I know, doesn't run with junkies and wanna be gangsters. The Yuuri I met, wasn't interested in making huge amounts of money. The Yuuri that I fell in love with, didn't care who or what I was.”

Yuuri’s breath caught. “You love me?”

The anger dissolved instantly. As if he just realized what he had said.   
His lips opened and closed, but no sound escaped. 

Yura’s voice was the first thing that broke the silence, crashing through the door and into the room, full of teenage annoyance. “JUST KISS ALREADY!”

“YURA!” Otabek balked, although more dampened by the distance. “Leave them alone, this is important.”  
“I know it is, but if i have to listen to them tiptoe around this anymore i'm gonna puke.” 

“But-”

“I love you.”

Eyes widened and filled with tears. Hands clutched at the blankets.   
“I would like to take you out on a date, Yuuri. But as me. With all the guards awkwardly in the background, just me and you, but as us. Would you allow me the honor?”

Yuuri just stared for a second. And then he nodded.


	8. Epilogue

**6 Months Later**

“I can't believe you're doing this!” Yura barked, dolled up in an all white suit, red rose clinging to the side of the blazer. “You’ve know the pig for a few month, and now you're GETTING MARRIED?!”

“It's wonderful, I know.” Victor said, champagne flute in one hand, the other wrapped around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him against him.   
“We really didn't have to have a party for this, you know.” Yuuri muttered, embarrassment tinging his cheeks a dusty rose. 

“No we have to celebrate, My Love,” Victor insisted. “It's not everyday you get engaged you know.”

Their matching rings sparkled on their fingers. It had started as a promise. They would respect each other, and the commitment they had both made to the relationship. A promise ring, Yuuri had said, when he bought Victor one.   
When Victor pulled out an almost identical golden band from his pocket, and agreed, he bent at the knee and promised to do so, if Yuuri promised to stay with him.

Yuuri couldn't refuse. 

The wedding was going to be grand, and white. Pichit and Otabek were to be the groomsmen, Christophe would be the minister, at his insistence, and Yura would hold the flowers, much to his reluctance.

And it was going to be perfect, Yuuri thought, staring at his future husband. 

They had a lot to learn about each other, and now they had all the time in the world. And they would do it, together.


End file.
